Wearable, Removable
by maguena1
Summary: Kanna has left the North Pole several years ago, but she's still sorting out what to discard from her past.


Disclaimer: I do not own _Avatar: The Last Airbender._

Note: I'd like to show my appreciation for readers and reviewers somehow by writing more, but that's not always easy. I've accumulated a lot of incomplete character sketches and stories that went nowhere in the past few years, though. So when I'm stuck on BOTB, I'm going to try to rescue and finish a few old fragments.

 **Wearable, Removable**

"Hi, Momma," Kya giggles. Somehow, she opened the chest in which they store clothes and played dress-up while Kanna cleaned today's haul of fish. The five-year-old's normal arm-wave gets smothered to a wriggle inside her father's winter parka. Kanna shakes her head fondly and lifts the heavy garment off. Underneath is the linen dress Kanna keeps for when they go trading in the summer. As Kya bounces to her feet, it becomes clear she can't keep it on one shoulder without it slipping off the other. Possibly that's why Kanna's spare chest bindings are wound around her neck and shoulders like a scarf.

Kanna laughs at the sight and finds a brooch to pin the dress closed. "Thanks!" Kya says and clumsily unwinds her makeshift scarf.

She has the necklace on underneath. Kanna feels blinded. "Where did you get that?!" she yells, and instantly regrets it when she sees how white and scared her daughter's face has gone.

Kya doesn't know. It's not her fault.

"It was right there," she hiccups, pointing at the bottom of the chest, then looks up mutely. Kanna thinks – _I didn't come here for her to grow up scared._ She can't quite smile, but she tries to smooth her face out and strokes Kya's hair slowly. "I didn't mean to yell, darling. Just don't wear it."

"Why not? It's pretty."

Is it now? Little girls, it seems, dream of nothing else but that necklace. Kanna undoes the clasp and weighs the pale blue medallion in her hand. If you didn't know that it was a chain, then – "I suppose it is."

Kya leans against her, fearless again. "See, it's got waves like the sea and shells." Her finger traces out the grooves, and Kanna can't help remembering the feel of them under her own fingers.

"Those are called spirals," Kanna tells her.

"Spirals," Kya repeats. "And see, it feels wet, but it's not!"

Kanna brushes her thumb over the stone. "You're right. That's because it's been polished. It takes a long time to polish the stone until it's this smooth."

Kya nods, a bit absently. She's fiddling with the stone medallion, playing with it. Does she care who made it and why? Is the only important thing to her that it can be a pretty toy?

Kanna can feel it, for a moment. See it as just a patterned stone on a ribbon. But it's not, it's an engagement necklace. When she wore it, she almost couldn't breathe.

 _That's why you left. You're here now, where little girls don't play at being brides._

"Can I wear it again, Momma? I promise I'll be careful!"

If she'd thrown it into the ocean, she wouldn't have to decide whether to say yes or no now.

Why hadn't she? She hated her engagement. She didn't hate Pakku, but she certainly didn't love him, didn't want anything from him. For a while, she had even been angry with him for having trapped her.

Maybe that's not true. He'd been – she can see this now – in love. Not cruel, just self-absorbed and thick-headed. But as much as she wants to excuse him, she can't forget that he never asked her if she liked him. He gave her the necklace in front of everybody and instead of looking at her to see what she thought, he'd been looking around triumphantly. She said yes. Shame is what she feels for the fact that she hadn't been able to say no aloud, only to run. It's not Pakku's fault that she said yes – but Pakku and her father set her up together. Their status, their desires, counted where hers didn't. Then, when she'd tried to say something, tell Pakku at least that she wasn't sure, he steamrolled over her every time. "You're wearing my necklace," he'd say, and he always expected his words to be the final ones.

She wonders sometimes whether life has knocked a few edges of arrogance off him. Whether he might not have become a friend, if nothing else. Not likely, of course – men and women weren't often friends, in the North. But she knew that, in his way, he felt the same frustration she did. He'd always been ambitious, and he'd always volunteered for every sea patrol he could. When he couldn't, he spent time talking to those who'd come back. She couldn't allow him to treat her as his consolation. When she left, she gained her freedom, her own fulfilled desires, everything she'd never known was possible, and he… who knew.

She'd worn the necklace when she left because she'd grown up on stories of terrible things that happened to women who left. Some vague idea that an engaged woman was at least a little off limits. Nobody outside the North Pole knew what the necklace meant, of course. It was no protection, and the vague notions were one more burden she was finally allowed to put down. Once, and only once, the necklace had been potentially useful. It could have become the few coins a trader offered for it. She'd been hungry, but not starving, and she knew the craftsmanship alone was worth more than than that.

Underneath the bad meanings and the bad memories, the shape of it, the necklace was still a present. From someone who, through no great fault of his own, would never get back a present from her. All she could give him was this small, odd bit of respect – not to throw away the necklace, but let it be.

A child's toy – why not? What was she afraid of? Kya was growing up free. It would take more than a piece of jewelry to change that.

"All right, Kya. You can have it."


End file.
